


The Bad Kids

by TheLastGoodGoldfish



Series: reverse [2]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Character Backstory Flip, Gen, Sequel, VMTAP20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25046899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastGoodGoldfish/pseuds/TheLastGoodGoldfish
Summary: It's not like they're exchanging friendship bracelets.
Relationships: Eventually - Relationship, Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Series: reverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813585
Comments: 15
Kudos: 82





	The Bad Kids

**Author's Note:**

> This will make a lot more sense if you've read [Part I](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13997952)

* * *

_Cause you know what I say_  
_Honey, it's always the right time to do the wrong thing_

* * *

Brett Bentley is a jock, cut in the Classic Model, so he looks like the mean older brother from an eighties movie. Broad and beefy, dark hair gelled to an implacable point, he squeaks four-hundred-dollar tennis-shoes over the scuffed tile floor of Neptune High’s North Wing hallway, but lacks his usual confident douchebag swagger as he advances.

Brett’s posture is a familiar one: he casts furtive glances over his shoulder, waffling for the entire approach because he hasn’t entirely made up his mind yet. He gets there eventually though; either the reward is worth the risk or he’s tired of his shiftless 09er existence and fancies himself _on an adventure_ , dallying with the lower classes, persons of ill-repute.

Anyway, he leans against the nearest yellow locker, and, omitting prologue, makes his business known: “I hear you do stuff for people.”

It’s an innocuous assertion, or anyway it might be, depending on the inflection. _I hear you do stuff for people—_ like, track down a stolen car for the occasional well-heeled 09er, help a luckless, swindled sophomore reclaim her allowance, restore the sullied reputation of the saintly Meg Manning... sure. Favors for friends—or paying clients, as the case often is.

On the other hand, the statement could easily mean something less... savory. _I hear you do stuff for people_ : procure a couple doses of liquid mood relaxer for a hesitant girlfriend, fence stolen merch, deal oxy behind the bleachers, make a damn near bulletproof fake I.D… okay, the last one is true, yes technically, once or twice. The rest are what happens when rich kids believe the wrong rumors and are looking for a suitable stock-character accomplice to their various crimes. Hard pass.

And then there’s the taunt. _I hear you do stuff for people—in the bathroom at the road-stop off the Five. I hear you do stuff for bored 09er parents—moms, dads, really whoever_. Bikers and jocks with _secrets_. There are stories of parties in L.A., insinuations and punchlines blurred together with verifiable facts—as if the alcoholic mother and reduced tax bracket are confirmation of whatever tawdry fiction they’re jacking off to this week.

Neptune’s a shithole.

It’s best in these circumstances not to respond, to let Brett Bentley say his piece and face the consequences, whatever they may be.

Met with a blank stare, only the slightest movement of an eyebrow, Brett rambles on, “Like—you find out stuff for people. For money. I can pay you.” He extends the offer like he’s believed at least half of the rumors that float around Neptune High, like he expects a wad of his parents’ cash will make the prospect of working for some boring Senior Lacrosse player more palatable. And—fine, it kind of does. “It’s my girlfriend Kylie. Kylie Marker, the cheerleader?” He waits for some acknowledgment that Kylie is a known entity— _which she is, there aren’t that many cheerleaders, it’s not that big a school_ —but the bell will ring soon and time’s-a-wastin’.

“What do you need, Bentley?”

Brett sulks at the disrespect, but sojourns on, heroically put upon. Tilts his head forward and checks over his shoulder one more time. If he’s fretting over his reputation, he should’ve picked a more private locale than the main promenade between second and third period. “I think she’s cheating on me,” he says. “I mean, I’m pretty sure she’s hooking up with some other dude. You can—you can, like, find out who, right? That’s what you do? I’ll pay you whatever you want, just—I gotta know.”

Oh, poor Brett Bentley. In his Varsity jacket with his class ring proudly on display: a specimen of Pirate Pride, woebegone over a straying blonde. It would be tragic, if it wasn’t a dull rehash of last season’s storyline. Doesn’t Brett know unfaithful cheerleaders are _so_ 2004?

More importantly, doesn’t Brett know that any P.I. worth their salt pays attention to local gossip?

“No, thanks.”

“Wait, _what?_ ’ Brett is visibly startled by the rejection. He clearly didn’t expect a negotiation. “Why the fuck not?”

“Word on the street has it that you and Kylie broke up. Believe me, I’m disappointed in myself for knowing that, but I sit behind June Seeley and Amanda Mendez in fifth period study hall, and—you know how they like to talk. In fact just yesterday...”

“Okay _fine_ , Kylie and I broke up,” Brett interrupts. “So what? It doesn’t matter, I just want you to find out who she’s hooking up with now, okay? I fucking swear, if it’s Garrett Fisher...”

“Oh, it’s not Garrett Fisher.”

“It’s—wait. Do you know who it is?”

“You kidding? All that macho posturing? No way is Garrett Fisher getting any.”

Maybe the _macho posturing_ crack hits too close to home, because Brett looks more incensed than appeased. Still, he soothes himself with flared nostrils and a sharp inhale and says, “Fine. Whatever. Just—will you help me or what?”

Sometimes it’s best to speak to Brett’s species in slow, ultra-enunciated words, so that they really get the point: “Once again. _No. Thanks_.”

“What? _Why_?”

“Because I don’t want to. Move on, Brett: Kylie obviously has.”

“Fuck you,” spits Brett.

“Oh, good point, now I’ve completely changed my mind.”

“What’s wrong with you, anyway? What do you want?”

“Peace and quiet? Elisha Cuthbert’s phone number? Adventure in the great wide somewhere?”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I don’t want to work for you, and I’m late for Physics.”

“Look, if you don’t want money, I can still give you something you do want.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“No, listen, there’s a party this weekend—Jimmy Day and Bodie Chang are hosting it at Bodie’s dad’s beach house. I can get you in, and everyone’ll be cool with you.”

_Well—that’s a new one._

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m offering you your seat at the table back,” says Brett. “I can get you back on the _in_. No one’ll talk shit, no one’ll bother you. _I_ can do that.” _He can’t_. The offer is as absurd as it is undesirable, and if Brett Bentley thinks he has that kind of power—to defy the will of the Kanes and keep his head—he’s totally deluded. Which is apparently the case, because he adds: “Don’t you want your old life back, Echolls?”

What a fucking question.

The bell finally sounds, and Logan rolls his eyes. He grabs the textbook from his locker and throws it into his backpack. “I’m not going to help you stalk your ex, Bentley.”

That should be the end of the conversation. Logan certainly does his best to _make_ it the end, turns on his heel and heads to Physics, but Brett gives chase.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands.

There are plenty of theories on the subject: surely the school counselor has a whole notebook full of them. Logan Echolls is a perfect case-study of issues. Dead girlfriend, absent father, suspect impulse control, mild to moderate A.D.D.

He suspects that Brett’s question is rhetorical, however, and keeps walking, easily outpaces his pursuer, which doesn’t bode well for the Pirate Lacrosse program.

“Yeah, well fuck this,” grumbles Brett when Logan continues to ignore him, “I guess what everyone says about you is...”

“Look.” Logan halts abruptly, so Brett nearly barrels into him, stopping just short and hopping back like he’s afraid he’ll catch something. Logan holds up one hand, placating; “Maybe I didn’t phrase that very well. What I meant to say was, _I don’t want to help you, because I don’t like you._ _Go fuck yourself_.”

“Fuck you, man.”

“See, now I feel like we’re just talking in circles.” Logan spins back, resumes his course.

Brett lets loose an uncreative, if unpleasant, string of profanities and slurs, to which Logan doesn’t bother responding. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before, and he’s almost reached the Physics classroom.

“ _Hey I’m talking to you, Shithead!”_ –Brett’s dulcet tones are a little louder, closer now...

Fuck’s sake, Bentley, don’t turn this into a whole _thing_...

“Hey, ECHOLLS.”

Logan would swear he can feel the hand slap on his shoulder seconds before it actually does. He really should ignore it—shrug off this waste-of-oxygen and shuffle on into Physics. Turn the other cheek. He’s already kind of on Clemmons’s shit-list, and he’d promised Keith that he’d _try_ to stop fighting...

"I'm TALKING to you." Bentley’s hand lands with a _clap_ , and it’s... it's just that Logan really fucking hates when people touch him like that. It's like—it's like it does something to his brain—sends him somewhere else, to some moment he can’t quite identify. It’s a sensory feeling, more than a memory, a heavy rhythm that beats in his head and drowns out reason.

_Don’t you want your old life back, Echolls?_

_Abso-goddamn-lutely not._

Brett’s whining lumbers through the haze, as his grip on Logan’s shoulder constricts: “ _...of course you’d side with some fucking whore, it’s not like your mother isn’t..._ ”

Ah, fuck it.

Logan turns round, twists his bag-strap once around his wrist and sends the bookbag spinning into the side of Brett Bentley’s head, hurling Brett against the nearest row of lockers with a satisfying _thwack._

* * *

From the back row of sixth period World History, Veronica divides her attention between Mr. Tomassani’s roll call and Madison Sinclair’s daily laundry list of gossip, as it is breathlessly relayed to Shelly Pomroy. Tomassani—a recent addition to sixth period World History—is probably the only teacher left in school who still takes attendance in March, and it would be annoying even if it _didn’t_ afford Madison an extra five minutes of talk-time.

_“Kelly Bradford?”_

_“Present.”_

_“Richard Casasblancas?”_

_“Right here, Big Guy.”_

_“A simple ‘present’ will suffice, Mr. Casablancas. Stuart Cobbler?”_

_“Here.”_

Madison has been in an annoying mood all week... or, more accurately, for the entirety of her earthly existence, but particularly this week. She’s always a prissy suck-up, but she goes through periodic phases when she finds ways to make herself even less likable. Currently, she’s seated up-and-over one desk from Veronica, hasn’t formally addressed her, but keeps glancing back out of the corner of her eye, checking if anything she says has managed to capture Veronica’s attention.

Veronica simply drums her fingernails on the surface of her desk, enjoys the clicking of black varnish on plastic, and amuses herself imagining how Lilly would respond now.

_(“Wallace Fennel?”_

_“Here.”_

_“Michael Garcia?”_

_“Present.”)_

Madison is rattling off the particulars of the latest in the Neptune-Pan-rivalry to Shelly like it’s Breaking News, and Veronica knows the kindest thing she could do would be to make eye contact and act interested. Her impulse, pettier but far more satisfying, is to continue to ignore the little feud, let Madison stew in the failure of her own design, and keep as much distance between herself and high school politics as possible.

But that’s not what Lilly would have done.

_“Jessica Ichburg?”_

_“Here.”_

“Duncan Kane?” Mr. Tomassani reads from his list, and Duncan—seated in the front of the classroom—raises his hand in the air:

“Present.”

“Veronica Kane?”

“Here,” Veronica calls back, and Tomassani scans the back row, spots her, then continues down the list.

Her sister, were she still living today, would let Madison hang, tease her with the pretense of interest, and then, the moment that Madison revealed whatever “big scoop” she was hoping would curry favor, ignore her completely and compliment Shelly instead. 

High school social hierarchies are so... boring.

Veronica leans over in her desk and stage whispers to Dick, seated to Madison’s left, “Hey, Casablancas.”

Dick checks her over his shoulder, guarded, because even if brains are not his strong suit in the traditional sense, his instincts don’t suck. His assessment of Veronica Kane is something like _bang-able but scary, safer not to engage_ , with a side of _do not defy_ , so Veronica favors him with her least threatening smile and asks, “Got any gum?”

He relaxes and digs into the pocket of his cargos, “Sure, Ronnie.”

Veronica feels Madison’s eyes on her. She’s completely halted her discussion of the school’s missing mascot—mid-sentence, no less—to watch Veronica’s exchange with her former-and-maybe-current boyfriend (it’s hard to keep up). No doubt Shelly is on the edge of her seat, awaiting the rest of Madison’s Polly-the-Parrot theory.

Veronica accepts the stick of Cinnamon Trident (yuck) and smilingly pops it into her mouth. “Thanks, man,” she says to Dick, aiming for _just-one-of-the-boys_ , a look Madison couldn’t achieve with blood sacrifice.

Madison immediately clears her throat, angles her body toward Veronica and coos, “Hey, Veronica, love your nails.”

 _It’s really too easy_.

“Thanks, Maddie.” She smacks her gum for emphasis, then turns her eyes to the white board at the front of the room.

(“ _Lisa Ortega?”_

 _“Here, Mr. Tomassani.”_ )

“So, Veronica,” Madison presses on, her conversation with Shelly utterly abandoned by this point, “Did you hear about Logan Echolls?”

So _that’s_ what it is. The pieces fall into place as to why Madison’s been vying for her attention: she’s got a Logan Echolls Rumor that she imagines will be of interest to Veronica. This is a faulty assumption, of course, Veronica couldn’t care less about Logan Echolls, and taunting Neptune High’s most notorious ex-09er is _so_ Fall semester.

Still, no harm in throwing Madison the occasional bone, if it means that much to her:

“No, did the Pan High basketball team kidnap him too?” She picks up her pen and twirls it between her thumb and forefinger. Someone always has something to say about Logan—and Veronica would have to be dumber than Dick to believe a tenth of it. 

“He got in a fight with Brett Bentley this morning,” says Madison. Hardly groundbreaking material, that; Logan’s in a fight every other week, half the time of his own initiation. “Kimmy says Brett found out Logan’s hooking up with Kylie Marker. You know how Kylie and Brett just broke up.”

“No _way_ ,” says Shelly, gamely providing Madison with the desired reaction. “Kylie would have to be a total idiot to go out with Logan. Jenn and Marlena’ll kick her off cheer!”

Veronica is a touch disappointed, to be honest. Truthfully, the promise of a Logan Echolls Rumor had sparked a _little_ hope for something more interesting—perhaps something relating to his inexplicable _in_ with the local biker gang, or at least another fired World History teacher. Veronica glances up at Mr. Tomassani, concluding roll call. He looks like he might have a few skeletons in his closet, and after the outing of the endearing Mr. Rooks, anything seems possible.

Logan Echolls chasing cheerleaders doesn’t interest Veronica at all.

“You’d think he’d have a little more common sense,” she says, just to have said something. “Bentley’s got anger issues.” Then again, Logan never did have common sense—even back when they were friends. A million years ago... before Lilly died. Before he sold them all out for the loyalty of some disgraced, incompetent sheriff. Before, before, before. When his presence in her life, her family’s life, was something warm, consistent—sun and saltwater. He’d call her _Ronnie_. Veronica pushes these thoughts aside: “Good news for you, though, Maddie: looks like Logan’s into blondes again.”

Madison scoffs. “Gross.” Still, she rolls her eyes just to break eye-contact and flushes faintly. Veronica is fairly certain she’d be thrilled if Logan Echolls ever paid her the slightest bit of attention—even if she would never admit it.

Dick takes a brief reprieve from drawing boobs on his textbook to rejoin the conversation: “You talking about Bentley and Echolls?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, hands folded behind his head.

“Yeah.” Madison shifts in her chair again to face him. “Did you see the fight earlier?”

“Nah, Brett’s pissed though. We’re supposed to kick Logan’s ass after school today.” Dick shrugs. _All in a day’s work_.

“Who’s _'we_?'” Veronica asks.

“I don’t know, me an’ Brett an’ some of the guys from Lacrosse?”

“I can’t _wait_ to see Kylie’s face at cheer practice,” says Madison, gleeful at the prospect of her teammate’s social disgrace: a class act, as always. Veronica, for her part, is skeptical. Kylie would hardly be the first popular girl to chase a boy with a bad reputation, and pretty blonde cheerleaders tend to bounce back.

Besides, Veronica is not convinced that Logan is interested in Kylie Marker at all. Madison is an idiot who _rarely_ knows of which she squeaks.

Mr. Tomassani finally starts in on the lecture, and Veronica uses the excuse to tune out the rest of the gossip. As little as she cares for Logan Echolls—after everything he’s done—she’ll have to put a stop to Brett’s little revenge scheme. She has plans of her own, and Echolls being incapacitated—or even in an uncooperative mood—interferes with those plans.

She could simply tell them all to stop, to leave Logan alone, but there’s a chance they won’t listen. Even if they do, Veronica is not about to spend social capital defending the boy who betrayed her family.

Duncan would put a stop to it: she glances to the front of the room, where her brother takes diligent notes, shoulders hunched over his desk. No, Duncan would put a stop to it _if he felt he had to_. If she went to him and merely mentioned Brett’s intentions, he would roll his eyes, say something disparaging about the lacrosse team, but excuse himself under the guise of minding his own business. He would say that Brett is a jerk, but there’s nothing _he_ can do about that. In fact, it's likely that Duncan has been left on the outside of the plan for this exact reason: her brother’s philosophy these days is _don’t ask, don’t tell_ , _don’t do much at all._

Veronica tables that idea for the time being.

There’s always Logan’s sketchy friends to consider. Brett and company will hang back if they think there’s a chance of a rumble with the PCHers, and it would be easy enough to tilt her head at Eli Navarro and let her familial resemblance to Lilly work its magic. On the other hand, her warning Weevil could get back to Logan, and that’s the absolute last thing she wants.

It will have to be Duncan, then—and as she decides this, she lands on her solution: Meg.

If Duncan’s girlfriend hears about this little plot, she’ll make sure he puts the kibosh on it. Meg has a soft spot for Logan, after he lent his hand with that whole Purity Test debacle, and she would never allow a hit. Plus, Meg is so trusting, she’ll never suspect Veronica’s ulterior motives when she lets Brett's plan "slip."

It’s really her only option. She wishes she didn’t have to do it—spare Logan—but she does. _Is he really dating Kylie Marker_ —fuck, who cares? Yesterday he agreed to help Veronica with her own little trouble—vis-à-vis a runaway mother that requires tracking down—and for that, she needs him operating at full capacity. That’s all this is: a totally practical business arrangement. It’s not like they’re exchanging friendship bracelets.

**Author's Note:**

> Everything except the last paragraph was written back in 2018 when I did the first part... these were the original "opening" scenes. Kinda lame I didn't really expand on the story here much, but I was always bummed that I didn't get to use this intro for Logan, and if the trope fits...
> 
> Also I tried to post this and AO3 ate it so I had to redo the whole thing..... so if it somehow publishes twice.... sorry....  
> 
> 
> [Part III](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25398967#main) now showing in a theater near you


End file.
